The Short Sugar Plum Fairy
by Amberdeengirl
Summary: Being short isn't meant to matter, right? So how come my entire career rests on the fact that I'm barely five feet tall? Alice Brandon arrives at a prestigious Ballet Academy, but soon finds everyone doubts her, except a handsome six foot Russian...
1. Chapter 1

Hello!

So...I suppose one must wonder why I am beginning a new Fanfiction when I already have two on the go.

Well, this one's been on my mind since pre-earthquake times, and I just wanted to get it out there.

You can call it a prequel to 'Clair de Lune'. It's based around my dear danseuse Alice, and her cavalier, Jasper.

If you're new to my writing then welcome! I hope you enjoy!

If you're already reading 'Clair', then you'll be wondering why I'm not furiously writing the next chapter...:D Don't worry, as soon as I click the magic post button, I'll be back onto Tanya and Bella and Edward...

Alright!

**Please review! At this first step, feedback is _so _important!**

**And, as always, enjoy!**

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><p>'<em>Good things come in small packages.'<em>

So true. Good things _do _come in small packages. A charming, positive outlook, right?

'_Tall __men come down to my height when I hit 'em in the body.'_

But this one's a little more practical, don't you think?

**Day One – Monday**

My parents and I all got out of the car outside the front door. It was like those stately homes in historical movies – with a big turning circle and lots of trees. A long driveway stretched away behind them. Around us, parents obediently dropped their little darlings off in their SUVs and BMWs with tinted glass and shiny covers and then left before they could embarrass their sweet little dears.

My parents – Liz and Ernest Brandon – did no such thing. They gathered me up in a tight three-way hug, just like always, not caring what anyone else thought. Screw anyone else watching – my parents rocked.

They didn't waste money on silly ornaments or flash cars. They didn't go to cocktail parties and lie their way up the social ladder like most of these other parents probably did. Nope, my parents covered our walls with paintings and photos of us three together and saved up for road trips down to Brazil.

See, my Mom, Liz, is a painter. Classical painter, none of that modern abstract junk. Dad's a painter too, but not the artistic type – the paint kilometres of office walls that generic off-white vomit type. Still, it gave us money to live off, and fortunately Dad wasn't off-white at all. Right now he was dressed in a red and white Christmas sweater that my Gran had knitted him, and the most _horrific _pair of _green _and _purple _shorts from Africa. And socks with sandals! Oh God he was a mess! What if someone saw…

…wait. I wasn't meant to be embarrassed like everyone else…oops.

"You'll call us, won't you Ali?" Asked Mom, putting a hand to my cheek.

"Of course, Mom," I said, smiling, "I'll tell you all about the fashion mayhems and bratty ballerina wanna-bes."

"And that beautiful French architecture…" she sighed, looking over my shoulder at the mansion behind me – I was trying not to think about it at present.

"Mom, get away from the art…"

She sighed and laughed, giving me a peck on the cheek. "Have fun, sweetie."

I grinned and gave her another hug, then turned to Dad.

He folded me into his arms. I breathed in the scent of spices and paint that seemed to go with him everywhere. "Work hard," he said, pulled back and grabbed my hands like he always did. "And dance your socks off."

I smiled, even though I really did want to cry. My Dad had said that before every single performance since I'd first started. I remembered my first class.

My favourite movie when I was little was Snow White. My Mom had gotten so sick of me dancing round the house, destroying everything in my path as I pretended to be dancing with my prince, that she'd enrolled me at the local Ballet Studio. I would always remember bounding in with my favourite bright orange skirt and pink top and black and pink polka-dot tights.

All the little girls were doing barre exercises, looking very confused. I marched right to the front of the barre and decided I should show them how to do it. They were doing tondues – pointing your foot to the front, the side, the back, then in. But they were so silly – why didn't they lift their feet off the ground? Snow White didn't do boring stuff like that. So I began kicking my leg up high, having so much fun as my skirt cascaded around me and I felt that great stretch, fitting right in with the CD we were dancing to.

Of course, the instructor had given mom a concerned look and had told me I was meant to keep my feet on the ground. I had just shaken my head and told her she was wrong, then went back to my off-balance high kicks.

My ballet career might have ended then and there when I ended up kicking the girl behind me in the stomach. I'd spun around, my hands smacked on my mouth. "Sorry!" She'd just started crying. Then the girl behind _her _started crying, and then the girl behind her and then the entire class. I'd been sympathetic for about five seconds before stamping my foot and rolling my eyes.

"They should use their heads!" I'd told Mom as she'd pulled me out of the studio. It was a line I'd gotten off Hercules. It didn't make any sense, but my Mom understood my frustration. She didn't think I'd want to go back.

But as we passed the window into the second studio, I saw an older class at work. They were teenagers, all en pointe and wearing beautiful long white tutus. I watched as they jumped and leapt, balancing on the very tips of their toes, the white tulle frothing around their legs. They were even better than Snow White! "I want to go in that class," I'd demanded.

"That's for older girls, sweetie."

But I was stubborn. I managed to turn my cuteness on – something I didn't usually do – and charmed the instructor. She'd thought it was a joke, but had allowed me to stand at the very back of the class for the barre exercises, and I had worked just as hard as the older girls, who I all but worshipped. The instructor let me come back again next time, and soon I was holding hour-long tantrums about pointe shoes with my Mom. I always got what I wanted – but pointe shoes on a five year old were totally out of the question. It took all the girls in my class to explain to me that I would get them eventually. Then they put their money together and bought me a sparkly pink tutu for class. That had silenced me…for a while.

Back in the present, Dad had let go of my hands and was glancing at his battered old watch. "We better get going, hun – driving in the dark's not a good idea."

Mom nodded, and they both gave me a final hug before getting back in the car. Mom wound down her window and leaned out, a tear in her eye, "We're so proud of you, Ali. Go and show 'em how it's done."

I smiled, suddenly feeling shy and scared. This was the first time I would be living away from my parents. I wouldn't see them until Christmas Break. With any luck, I would have a permanent place here…I would be able to stay here right up to Senior Year…but that was the thing – all these people around me, pulling along their suitcases and fixing their clothes and eyeing up each other…they had more of a chance of staying than I had. See, I was on scholarship.

A very_delicate_ scholarship – they had made that perfectly clear. I had auditioned for pretty much every academy's scholarship spots – even one or two in England through video. They had all declined me. All of them. And some of their letters had simply told me not to bother wasting my time at _any _academy.

I was too short.

I had been heartbroken. I knew that scholarships were hard to get…but I'd thought I'd had a chance.

I must have a luck fairy flying over me, though, because a month ago, just before I was about to return to my normal school, I received a phone call from a Mister Carlisle Cullen, the headmaster and world renown danseur extraordinaire. He'd told me one of the scholarship students had dropped out, and offered me her place. He'd said I wasn't the best by any means out of those they'd auditioned. But he'd said that those above me had enough funding to come here anyway, or they'd been accepted elsewhere. I was the one who needed the scholarship. And I got it.

But then, like I said, it was a delicate scholarship. I had to prove I could keep up with the others.

My parents disappeared off down the road. I took in a deep breath. _Now Ali', _I thought to myself, _you mustn't be scared. You _will _show all these preppy pink-tights how a _real _ballerina dances. You can do it! _I briefly checked that all my clothes were in order. I'd dyed my grey skinny jeans purple, and they looked just perfect with my black boots. My pink t-shirt was long sleeved, with oval cut outs down the arms, showing glimpses of my skin.

I checked for the most important thing – my pendant. I'd found it in a junk stall at the Saturday market when I was seven. It was a ballerina, her arms in an oval above her head, one leg behind the other. She was wearing a tutu, and, most importantly, she had _wings! _The paint had rubbed off long before I'd found it, and so now she was a shining silver. She was the Sugar Plum Fairy.

I took another breath. Okay, I was ready. I was going to do this.

I turned around to face it. The mansion. My new school. My new home. It was a massive brick thing. I could see why Mom had been interested; it was quite magnificent. There were big framed windows in neat rows all the way up. Ivy climbed up one side, making it seem like some sort of fairytale. The stone steps leading up to the porch were wide and polished. The double doors had a large granite plaque above them.

_Force de la Beauté_

_Ballet Academy_

This was it. I was here.

I began tugging my suitcases up the steps, nerves tickling me.

A tall woman dressed in a ruffled dark red blouse and black pencil skirt stood at the door. _Well,_ I thought to myself, _at least _someone _round here has decent fashion sense._

That was, of course, before I realised who it was. Typical me, looking at someone's clothes before I looked at their face. Still, it didn't take me long to discover that the woman in the doorway was none other than Esme Cullen.

I stopped there and then. Esme Cullen. Esme _Cullen. _Wife and partner of Carlisle Cullen. They were like...ballet _royalty..._I mean, sure, I knew Carlisle was the Headmaster and Esme the Head Ballet Mistress...but to see them here..._wow..._

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle?" Crap! She was talking to me! Esme Cullen looked me up and down distastefully. _Damnit! I should have worn my green jeans...they're way more sophisticated... _"I would suggest you hurry up – if you cannot carry a few bags up some steps then I very much doubt you will survive here."

"Sorry, Miss," I said, flusteredly yanking the rickety suitcases up. But the stress of having one of the world's top dancers watching me made it even harder.

"Mon dieu!" She sighed, "Emmett, go and help her, oui?"

I looked up. A boy had been leaning in the doorway, dressed in a white wife beater and trackpants. He was very muscular...surely he could not be a dancer? "Yes, maman," he muttered, pushing himself off the doorframe. In three quick strides, he was picking up my suitcases and carrying them inside.

_Wait! 'Maman'? Isn't that like...mum? No way! _I looked at him again, _He's Esme and Carlisle Cullen's son! Oh my God – _

"We also don't have space for absent mindedness, you know," Esme Cullen said demurely.

"Sorry, Miss," I said again. Twice in less than five minutes...

She raised an eyebrow, "You will refer to me as Mistress Esme. And what is your name?"

"Alice Brandon," I said quickly.

She flipped a page over on her clipboard, frowning, "You are the scholarship student, no?"

"Yes, Miss...Mistress Esme."

She looked me up and down again. I knew what she was doing...I knew _exactly _what she was doing.

She was measuring me. Quickly calculating the likelihood of such a short girl getting _anywhere _in the ballet world...

Eventually she cleared her throat and ticked something off on the clipboard, "Welcome to _Force, _Miss Brandon."

"Thank you, Mistress Esme," I said quietly and hurried in.

I stopped again. I had entered into something of an entrance hall...a very _big _entrance hall. The walls and floor were all dark cherry wood. Doors led off in different directions...and a massive grand staircase led up to a massive window, and then split into two, continuing up to the next floor. A big chandelier, glinting with hundreds crystals, hung above the stairs. Oh! It was so grand! On the right wall, there were open double doors, with the sign '_Theatre' _above them. People were heading through.

But others were milling around the Entrance Hall, talking to others. The girls were all fixing up their pastel toned clothes..._bleh...where was the expression?_

Emmett Cullen stood by a massive pile of bags, adding my suitcases to the edge. I went over, "Thanks so much..."

He flicked me a quick smile, "Always glad to help a little person."

I frowned, "Hey..."

But he suddenly caught sight of someone behind me. "Edward!" He boomed, striding past me. I turned around.

_No way...Edward _Masen! Here! He was dressed stylishly in a blue jacket and jeans. His hair was artistically messy...his handsome face was even more striking in real life...Edward _Masen! _It was only a few months ago that he'd come into the spotlight...he'd won the gold medal in the pre-professional division of World Ballet Competition in Orlando! My ballet class – all girls – had watched him instead of class one day – though it was an education all the same. We were all squealing by the end! He was just...oh! Exquisite!

He slapped Emmett Cullen on the back. "Still living up to your masculinity, I see," he said.

Emmett Cullen's laugh bounced off the walls. "Hell yeah, Eddie. See you're still living up to your usual girl attracting reputation."

It was true – I wasn't the only one staring. Girls all around giggled, looking at the celebrity in front of them. Edward grimaced, lowering his voice so that only Emmett and I – standing pretty invisibly behind the two of them – could hear, "But I bet I can't make a damned partner out of any of them."

Emmett chuckled, "I dunno, Eddie. If you're looking for something different, there's this really short girl – "

"Excuse me?" I snapped, walking right up to them. _Crap, Alice! What are you doing..._

Emmett Cullen glanced down at me – quite far down, true. He seemed suitably embarrassed, "Sorry..."

I narrowed my eyes. _He's Esme and Carlisle Cullen's son...I have to forgive him..._but then he broke out into a snigger. Edward followed, and soon they were guffawing at my expense.

I glared at them, spinning on my heel and marched off. And everyone was laughing...everyone in the freaking Entrance Hall...

_No...no you idiots...I'll prove it to you!_

I clutched my pendant and stalked through the doors to the theatre.

If the Entrance Hall was grand, the theatre was...awe inspiring. It had three levels; the stalls, the dress circle and the Gods. The seats were plush red...the banisters were gold and intricately carved...it wasn't like my old school's theatre, which was a gym ninety percent of the time...this was something to match the world's theatres...

And the stage was the most beautiful thing of all. It was massive and slightly sloped – that was for the benefit of the audience, so that they could see the performers better. A cherry wood lectern had been placed at the front. The background was a plain white at the moment, but I could imagine that with the annual production, it would change into a beautiful piece of art...but the best part of the stage was the arch. It was a proscenium arch – it framed the stage. This one was gold, with tiny sculpted vines winding up it. And in the middle was a crest of a unicorn, a sword, and a pair of ballet shoes..._now _that _has style!_

Quickly, I reminded myself I was meant to be grumpy...

The theatre was filling up from the front of the stalls. I sat down in a chair half way down an empty row, just behind a group of chattering girls.

"You're the sister of Kate and Irina _Denali?" _Said one of them to the girl sitting in the middle. She had her dark blond hair pushed back into a bun, secured with a shiny gold bow. She was wearing a white and gold fitted t-shirt. _Hmm...gold's not my thing...but it is kinda cool..._

_Oh, wait! Irina Denali? She's with the US Ballet! Oh God...so many famous people here... _

"Yeah," she said primly, "Kate's still in second year here."

"But she's already won so many competitions..." _Oh yeah...Kate Denali...I've heard of her, too..._

"I never heard they had a sister..." said the girl sitting on the other side of her.

I could see the Denali girl send a glare her way, "Don't worry, you'll hear of me."

"Right..." muttered another one.

"I bet I can cane all of you," she said...almost desperately...

Their group got up and left, leaving the girl alone.

_Poor her..._

I leant forward, tapping her on the shoulder, "Hey."

She turned around, frowning at me. Her eyes were lined perfectly with brown eyeliner, and a tiny hint of gold eye shadow shimmered just above her lashes. But she was glaring at me, so the good make up didn't really count...

"What?" She snapped.

"Um...just saying 'hi'," I said awkwardly.

She raised her eyebrow, "So?"

"You're a first year, right?"

"Yeah...you're point?"

I smiled, "You look lonely."

She snorted, "Well thanks. But I prefer to consort with people who actually _know _something about ballet," She looked at the group of girls, who were filing into another row of seats, "Most of them will become nothing – that's what my sisters say. They'll drop out before Third Year. Did you know that? The class sizes halve in the Third Year. _Halve..." _she smirked, shaking her head, "It'll tarnish my reputation to be seen with idiots like them."

I frowned and quickly climbed down into the seat next to hers. _She has a serious case of hurt pride..._

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Tanya," she replied, "Tanya Denali..." she seemed to take a second to realize what common etiquette required. Then she sighed, "What's your name?"

"Alice Brandon," I said chirpily, "Future Sugar Plum Fairy of the Royal Ballet."

She laughed a high tinkling laugh, "Have the Royal Ballet if you want – but trust me, the US Ballet is all mine."

I nodded, "Fair enough. What's your favourite role?"

She shrugged, "Whichever's the most technically challenging."

"Really?" I said, "What about their character?"

She rolled her eyes, "Moot point. Character's easy. The choreographers put the character into the moves. You just need to make the facial expressions."

I glanced at her. I mean, she was probably right; all the lovey dovey stuff wasn't really necessary as long as you had killer technique. But still...

Suddenly someone sat down in the seat next to me. I turned around.

The reincarnation of Sleeping Beauty sat before us. She had long, flowing blonde hair and one of those faces which can only be achieved by mere mortals through hours of photo shopping. But that was where Sleeping Beauty ended and some sort of Spanish seductress began. She was dressed in a crisp white blouse which tucked into a red skirt. Her long legs were crossed elegantly. Red high heels were fastened to her feet. Her hair was pushed back over her shoulder, and her lipstick was a bright red. How she pulled it off, I may never know, but somehow she did...

But she was staring straight forward at the empty stage, "Do not talk to me," she said blankly. Immediately I realized her accent was certainly not from these parts... "I am to just sit here and listen and then I will get out of your way."

I exchanged a glance with Tanya, who was looking at the girl suspiciously. "Uh..."

"I said to not talk to me. I do not want any of your American ideas."

"Okay..." _German? No...Russian! Aha! Russian! _"Oh!" I exclaimed, "You're from Russia!"

"Shut up!" She snapped, finally looking at me with a pair of fiery blue eyes. She pursed her lips and turned back to the front. "You need not remind me."

Tanya elbowed me. I turned back to the front.

A man was standing at the lectern. With a lean, but well built figure, and blonde hair, there was no doubt in my mind who he was...

"Good Afternoon, students," he said. I could clearly hear the French in his voice. "It is a pleasure to welcome you all to _Force de la Beauté. _I am your Headmaster, Master Carlisle Cullen. My wife, whom you will all have met upon entrance, is Mistress Esme Cullen_. _She is head Ballet Mistress and also head of the girl's dormitories." He looked out at us, "_Force de la Beauté _is one of the top Ballet Academies in America. Indeed, in the World."

The Russian girl huffed, folding her slim arms over her chest.

Carlisle Cullen continued, "So logically, you are some of the top Ballet students for your age in the World. This is a great achievement..." he smiled dryly, "So long as you wish to stay a ballet student for the rest of your life."

He rested his hands on the top of the lectern, "Here at _Force, _we can teach you how to become some of the best _dancers _in the World. We can teach you technique. We can teach you nutrition. We can teach you variations and choreography methods and music. We can teach you characterisation – dance connection." _Sounds like Tanya might need that... _"Indeed, we can teach you many things here, monsieurs et mademoiselles, but we cannot teach you how to think. We will not bother to change your attitudes. We will not bother to make you any greater than you yourself want to be. Or think you can be...

"We would not allow you into this academy if we thought there was no future for you in the Ballet World. We, the staff, will teach you all that we know. We will push you, but we won't fight you...if you want things to be easy, then they will be as easy as you wish. They will be as mediocre and as unfulfilling as you wish." He paused. He was so powerful...everyone seemed to be listening intently. "But at the end of the day, remember that we are not the ones who go out on stage. You are. And you do so alone."

He waited a moment, and then began to talk about rules and dormitories and such.

I zoned out, thinking back to his previous words. _He means we have to push ourselves...we have to know what we want...well, that's easy; Sugar Plum Fairy, Royal Ballet... _I swallowed, sinking back in my seat a bit, _but can I really do that? The looks people keep on giving me...even Esme Cullen has doubts..._

"_We won't bother to make you any great than you think you can be..."_

_I had to remember that..._

"I would also like to welcome our two international scholarships students," Master Carlisle was saying. "Rosalie and Jasper Hale from the Vaganova Ballet Academy in Russia." I glanced at the girl sitting next to me. She was sitting stiff in her seat, glaring at Master Carlisle. "It is a pleasure to have you with us."

"Rosalie?" I whispered as everyone else clapped politely, looking around to see who Master Carlisle was talking about.

"Shut up!" She hissed at me.

"What's her problem?" Tanya muttered to me.

I shrugged. _I wonder where her brother is..._

"It is now time for you to take your luggage upstairs and settle into your dormitories," said Master Carlisle. "Dinner will be served in the dining hall at six, where you will have the chance to meet the Second Years and the Seniors." He smiled, "Good luck with the year ahead."

We all stood up and people began heading for the doors. Rosalie Hale turned to us.

"I am going to walk with you, but do not talk to me, understand?"

Tanya and I exchanged glances again, "Okay..."

She stalked off ahead of us.

"Master Carlisle seems pretty intense," I said to Tanya, as we followed Rosalie.

"I've met him so many times before," she said nonchalantly, "He's okay."

"He's _amazing..."_

When we reached the Entrance Hall, we pushed through the various people to get to our bags. Tanya's suitcase was both black with golden straps. I was beginning to realize she had a thing for gold...

Rosalie was with us in only a few seconds, standing with two cargo bags, "Let's go."

She set off at a fast pace up the massive staircase.

"What's the rush?" I puffed as we reached the first landing.

"That idiot," she said glancing back.

I followed her gaze.

Hurrying up the stairs was a very tall guy. He was thin but still lean, with ragged blonde hair which grew down past his ears. I wasn't sure, but he looked kinda handsome..."Rosalie!" He called out. He sounded Russian, too..._so he's...Jasper. Jasper Hale..._

"Let's go," Rosalie snapped again.

"What does he want?" I asked, heaving up my bags.

"To apologize," she said blankly, her blonde hair bouncing.

"Um..." I looked back. He was only a few steps down from us, and quickly gaining.

"Rosalina!" He called again, his breathing laboured, "What are you doing?"

"I am ignoring you, you bastard," she replied, still storming up at an impressive speed. But Jasper was quicker. He grabbed Rosalie's hand, turning her around. We stopped with her. I could see his eyes well now. They were a very dark brown...almost black...locks of his hair had fallen into them. I had the strange urge to brush them away...

But he'd already shoved them back, raking a hand through his hair, "Rosalina, stop this idiotic tirade!"

"Idiotic?" She repeated, "_Idiotic? _I am not the one at fault here! You were the one who made me come this 'orrible little place!"

"There was nothing for you back in Saint – "

"Bullshit!" She shouted, smacking him hard on the chest. He took a step back, steadying himself. "I 'ad everything!"

"They threw you out!" He yelled back, losing his patience.

"They did _not!" _She said. "I was on _probation!"_

"You know that means the same thing!"

"It does _not!" _She snarled, and let out a wild stream of Russian.

"Dude," came a voice. Oh no...Emmett Cullen and Edward Masen walked up behind him, "What the hell is going on..." Emmett trailed off, looking at the furious Rosalie_. "Mon dieu,"_ he whispered.

Edward looked at Jasper, not nearly as distracted by Rosalie's appearance as Emmett, "What's happening?"

But before he could answer, Rosalie was pointing a red painted nail at the boys, "You two must be the bastards who got my brother to come here in the first place!"

"Emmett Cullen," said Emmett, holding out a hand.

Rosalie spat out another Russian expletive and spun on her heel, "Let's go!"

She began up the stairs again.

Tanya took a step back down, though, "Edward! It's good to see you again!"

Edward's eyes narrowed for a second, "Oh...Tanya Denali?"

I could see the disappointment in her eyes, "Yeah...last year, US Ballet fundraiser dinner?"

"Yeah, I remember," he said unenthusiastically, "...so how's Irina doing?"

As Tanya went into detail about her sister's various achievements, I looked at Emmett Cullen.

"How's it going, Shorty?" He asked with a grin.

I glared at him, "You're a real prick, aren't you?"

"Hey Jasper," Emmett said, turning to the Russian, "Don't they work out their potential height in Russia before they let them into the academy?"

"Yeah," he said, frowning.

Emmett grinned, looking back at me, "Maybe they should do that here."

I gritted my teeth, "You're real funny, aren't you?"

He laughed, "I am."

"Ugh!" I gasped, turning around, meaning to storm up the stairs like Rosalie. But I forgot the weight of my bags. They pulled me back, and I stumbled, falling back on the stairs.

"Woah!"

_Broken neck, broken back, broken leg..._but suddenly two arms wrapped around me, stopping me from falling.

I looked up into the eyes of Jasper Hale. He gazed down at me curiously. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I said breathlessly. I could feel his heart beating through his t shirt. I smelled cinnamon and some sort of aftershave...he was so warm...

He gently set me back on my feet. Quickly, I smoothed down my top. "Thank you..."

But Emmett and Edward, who'd abandoned his conversation, were howling with laughter.

I sighed and grabbed my bags._ What a graceful Sugar Plum Fairy to-be am I._

As Tanya and I silently climbed the stairs, I thought I felt those deep brown eyes watching me...

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><p>Ah, Russian danseurs...:D<p>

This story is a prequel to 'Clair de Lune'! Please check it out! **.net/s/6374993/1/Clair_De_Lune**

**Please review! Tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

__Hello!

How goes it?

I'm so sorry this hasn't been updated for...well, rather a long time.

Anyways, I am here now!

**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed!**

**I wouldn't have kept going without you!**

**Please let me know what you think! Whatever you say is really useful, trust me!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>I'm not small, I'm funsized!<em>

_I'm also in the perfect position to injure a particular part of your anatomy..._

**Day Two – Tuesday**

Monday evening didn't end after my horrible run in with Jasper.

The dormitory we were staying in was at the end of the third floor corridor. It was a long room, with ten single beds lining up along either side and a few couches and a radiator at one end. Obviously they didn't think we were going to have a lot of down time.

Still, we did sit around for an hour after Master Carlisle's speech, waiting for dinner. Mistress Esme had told us to get to know each other, and most of the girls were mingling, finding out each other's names and talking about their past dance experiences. But between Rosalie and Tanya, there was no chance of me really meeting anyone.

Tanya would only talk about her sisters when anyone tried to talk to us, and besides, Rose looked like she'd snap someone's neck if anyone came within a five metre radius, so that wasn't many anyway. And so we ended up in a corner of the room, sitting silently out of everyone else's way.

It was pretty much the same affair at dinner time. We sat right at the end of the massive dining hall, most of the seats at our big circular table empty. Even though it was the most exciting day of my life, I couldn't find anything to talk about. And so I found myself looking...looking for a certain six foot Russian...

Of course, I should've known that Rosalie would have picked a table as far away from them as possible. I couldn't see him..._not that I should want to! He just stopped me from breaking my neck – even Emmett Cullen would probably have done that; it doesn't make him a good guy...but his eyes..._

I wanted to ask Rosalie what the deal was with him and her, but I knew that _that _subject was the most dangerous one of all with her.

We left earlier than most people, probably to avoid the sibling in question, and headed back up the grand staircase. Tanya proudly pointed out a few of the portraits on the walls. "My great aunt's nephew on her husband's side," she said, gesturing to one particular painting of a danseur up in arabesque. "And there's one of my grandfather's friend – Imelda someone or other."

"Woah," I said, looking at the 'Odette' in front of me. "She's got perfect line..."

Tanya shrugged, "I think it's sloppy." She smiled at me and Rosalie, "But that's by my standards, of course."

"Your standards?" Rosalie repeated, her slender arms crossing over her chest. Her perfectly pencilled eyebrow lifted.

"Let's just say some people want to reach higher goals than others, you know?"

"You don't think I am good enough to reach for your _goals?" _

Rosalie's eyes shot poison, but unfortunately, Tanya didn't seem to quite register the fact that she was playing with fire. "Well, I don't really know," she said with a smile. "I mean, most people aren't. Like, I'm not saying they shouldn't _try, _but some people have just got it and some don't, you know?"

"Um," I said uncertainly as Rosalie stepped closer to Tanya. "D'you think they have cocoa in the dorm?"

"If you think you are so fantastic, Miss Denali, then perhaps you would like to prove it."

Tanya smiled, "Of course. And feel free to prove yourself, as well."

"I will," Rosalie said. "You," suddenly she swung around to me. "You will judge."

I swallowed, "Uh..."

"Good, then," Tanya said before I could give the reply no one would've listened to. "Pointe shoes, leos, and we'll go."

Rosalie nodded, and they both went to opposite sides of the staircase to walk up to the dorms. I walked in the middle, feeling like the referee of a to-the-death wrestling match. They both quickly dressed in the uniform black leotard and pink tights – _Ugh, so boring! Wait 'til they see _my _leos... _– then fastened on their pointes. Everyone else was still in the dining hall, being normal, so at least it wasn't going to be a public spectacle.

"Your pointe shoe?" Rosalie asked.

"Freed."

Rosalie let out a delicate snort, "Not Russian? They fall to pieces within a few minutes with what we do."

"Well you must be doing something wrong, then. Stamping like elephants, maybe?" Tanya retorted.

_This is getting dangerous..._

But I didn't bother trying to voice my concern – I was invisible.

"Let's go," Rosalie snapped.

And so we were soon on the second floor – where all the dance studios were. "But they're all locked," I pointed out as we walked down the silent corridor.

Tanya held up a shiny key, "Master Carlisle entrusted this to me, for my own personal practise time whenever I need it."

"How much did it cost?" Rosalie sniped as we went to a door marked 'Seven'.

"Those with talent don't have to pay," Tanya said curtly.

I smiled slightly; yeah, thank God _I_ didn't have to..._but I bet these two would both have beaten me to a scholarship if they'd wanted to..._

We walked into the studio. It was beautiful! A massive room with the signature floor to ceiling mirrors on three walls, and then big windows on the wall across from us. Cherry-wood barres were attached to the walls. Above one of the mirrors was the school crest. In the far right corner was a piano and a stereo. With only one of the lights on, it was only dimly lit.

"This place is awesome!" I said, spinning randomly into the middle of the floor. It was sprung to support a dancer's feet with all the jumping.

"The best facilities in the World," said Tanya, already plugging her iPod into the stereo.

"At Vaganova, we have _twice _this size," Rosalie snapped from the barre, doing a few quick warm ups.

I rolled my eyes; this was already getting old. "So," I said chirpily. "What are you guys gonna dance to?"

"I don't suppose you know any Balanchine?" said Tanya, flicking through playlists.

"We don't waste our time," Rosalie said mildly, pointing out one toe, then bending down with amazing litheness to touch it.

"Fine," Tanya said. "Odile's variation, Swan Lake."

_I've never even learnt that! _I thought depressingly as Tanya and Rosalie took their places. The music began. It was sweet and nice, tentative. Though of course Odile was actually an evil raven, intent on marrying the prince when really he was in love with Odette, the swan princess.

Tanya and Rosalie began to dance, pirouetting easily on their pointes. First just a normal spin, then one leg out, then arms up. It was all very perfect, and they were exactly in sync, too. They were even staring the same – their eyes fixed on themselves in the mirror, though occasionally flicking to one another.

I tried to think about my job, but I wasn't really into the whole Simon Cowell thing. Still, I tried to differentiate the two. Rosalie had a harshness in her movements that could've been character but seemed more like her just throwing anger into the steps. Her shoe snapped from flat to pointe loudly, and her arms moved from second to fifth almost too determinedly.

Tanya was similar. So precise, exact in the way her arms and legs moved. She was beautiful, but totally soulless. At least Rosalie had some sort of emotion – Tanya's face was just a mask of concentration.

The music went into a lighter part, tiptoeing up the scale. Tanya and Rosalie both courued – tiptoeing en pointe – across the floor, their front hands rising.

Really, they were both just amazing. _And I will never be able to dance like this...and they're my year group!_

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Tanya said as the music came to an end.

"Ummm..." I hesitated. "I don't know yet..."

"Fine, then," Rosalie huffed. Her breathing was only slightly laboured. "The coda."

_Oh no...thirty two fouettes..._it was one of the major moments in the whole ballet – Odile's thirty two spins en pointe, non-stop, when she's already danced most of a full length ballet. The audience would count meticulously as she tortured herself by spinning round and round and round. If you reached thirty two, you'd be fine. If you didn't...well, even if the rest of your performance was flawless, you were not an acceptable Odette/Odile.

And so I guess it made perfect sense for Rosalie and Tanya to test each other with this. At least all I'd have to do was count.

Without music, Tanya counted them in, "Five, six, seven, eight." And quickly they were both en pointe, spinning. With every fourth turn, their leg snapped out in a fouette, then back into a normal pirouette. Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen...it went on and on...

Both of them were breathing hard. All that could be heard was their puffs and the wood of their pointe shoes, up and down, up and down. They passed thirty two, but still did not stop. And they seemed to be getting faster, too.

I cleared my throat, "Uh, guys..."

But they kept going, glancing at each other, waiting for one to break. We must have been reaching sixty when the door opened.

"Rosalie!"

Rosalie broke off with a yelp, she stumbled back a few steps then righted herself.

Tanya smiled, landed neatly, and then took a little curtsy. "I win!"

"What the _hell _are you doing here!" Rosalie demanded.

Jasper stood in the doorway, Emmett and Edward behind him. "What are you doing, Rose?"

"I am _dancing," _she seethed. "Is that not what you are meant to do at this place?"

"You are picking fights again, Rosalina," Jasper said through gritted teeth, "That is what you are doing, you silly girl."

"What I do is none of your business, Jasper!"

Jasper gasped exasperatedly, took her hand, and pulled her outside. I wondered whether to stop him, but Rosalie soon shook off the hand and pushed ahead of him. The shouting started as soon as the door shut.

So Tanya, me, Edward and Emmett were all left inside. Emmett shook his head, his eyes fixed on the door. Rosalie shouted something which could only have been a Russian expletive. "Damn," Emmett whistled. "That girl has got some serious zest."

"Careful, Em," Edward laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. "Jasper might get you before you get her."

Emmett grinned at him.

"She's not that great," Tanya said. "I mean, being Russian trained and all. It's not the same. Wouldn't you agree, Edward?"

Edward shrugged, "Who cares where she comes from. If her technique's good, it's good. Regardless of style."

Tanya awkwardly cleared her throat and changed subject, "So...who you gonna partner tomorrow?"

"I'd rather not," Edward said, pushing a hand through his hair. "Just see who turns up, I guess."

"Eddie has emotional issues," Emmett said with a grin, nudging him in the ribs. "Don't want to have some partner messing with your mojo, do you?"

"Is partnering hard?" I asked, wondering if they'd even hear me, since I seemed to be invisible.

Emmett turned to me, "Oh, hey short stuff! How's life down there?"

I glared at him. "Are you wearing a ballet belt right now?"

He frowned, "No...What sort of a – "

"Good, then don't push it, hulk, or you'll wish you were."

Edward and Emmett burst out laughing again. I couldn't work out whether it was at my expense or not this time.

"To answer your question," Emmett said eventually, still sniggering. "Partnering's great – provided you can find the right partner. And that could be problematic..."

I groaned. Thankfully, Rosalie stomped back at that moment. "We are going," she snapped. "Come on, you and you." She pointed at Tanya and me. "Now."

Anxious to leave anyway, I followed them out. Just outside the door, Jasper stood with his back against the wall. "Rosalie," he said as we went past. But she just ignored him. I glanced at the red mark on his cheek. What the hell?

"What's up between you two?" Tanya asked as we went up the stairs, beating me to it.

Rosalie spun around on the stairs, "If you wish to remain acquainted with me then you will _not _ask that question!"

"I'm not sure I want to be acquainted with you," Tanya muttered.

"Yes you do," Rosalie said, continuing up the stairs. "Though of course you only beat me because of a disruption, you are a reasonably good dancer and you don't have any friends. You need someone to hang on your arm and pretend to be an ally against all those other girls who already hate you. Lucky for you, I am in the same situation. My brother will be more infuriated the more drama I instil. Since you seem to attract it with your overinflated ego, we can help each other."

I just stared at the two of them. _This is almost as bizarre as when that tree in _Pocahontas _starts talking...but that made sense...this is just weird._

By the time we got back to the dorms, everyone was getting ready for bed. I quickly slipped into my Disney Princess pyjamas, brushed my teeth and climbed into bed. Mistress Esme came and flicked the lights off not soon after. I tugged my duvet up to my chin and rolled onto my side.

_What a day!_

*T*S*P*F*

I was woken by a not-so-gentle shaking on my arm. I groaned and rolled over to find Rosalie leaning over my bed it was still pitch black outside. "What are you doing?" I murmured sleepily.

She angrily held a finger to her lips and then gave me a tug.

I frowned, but then pushed my covers back and stood up. Quickly, she'd pulled me out of the door and into the corridor. I squinted in the sudden light. Everything out here was quiet. Rosalie stood in front of me in a dark red nightdress, looking about twice our age. Her hair was perfectly styled, loose of one shoulder. How did she _do _that? I knew for a fact that mine would be in spikes right now.

"What is it?" I asked confusedly. "Can't this wait until morning?"

Rosalie shook her head, "I need to use a phone and you are going to help me. You are far more subtle than that gold girl, and obviously more intelligent."

"Um," I frowned, folding my arms. "We can go to the office first thing in the morning..."

"There is a phone in the office?" Rosalie said. "Good, let's go."

And then she took off down the corridor. With a sigh, I followed; I couldn't leave her to stomp around the school all night alone. God knows what she'd do.

"Who are you going to call?" I asked. "Someone in Russia?"

She just nodded stiffly.

All was quiet as we travelled down to the ground floor. The rest of the school was asleep. Rosalie seemed more uptight than ever. Her jaw was taut, her eyes set in front of her. She was on a mission...

When we reached the entrance hall again, I wasn't sure on where to go. Fortunately, the office turned out to be right by the dining hall.

Unfortunately, when Rosalie tested the door knob, it refused to turn. "Damnit!" she cursed, banging her fist on the wood.

"Shhh!" I hushed her. Now things were seriously getting dangerous...and even more so when I pushed her aside and yanked the hairpins holding my bangs back out of my hair.

I wasn't exactly a pro at lock picking, but when I was ten I began sneaking into the sewing room of my ballet school to steal scrap fabric for my designs. I mean, it wasn't _bad _stealing, right? It's not like they were gonna use the left over cuttings from the telly-tubby costumes on the Sleeping Beauty bodices. Besides, I didn't get caught...until I turned up to rehearsal in my first masterpiece – a tutu made up of a patchwork of different coloured tulle. My teacher was angry, but then offered me a job helping out with costumes. There will never be an Aurora costume made like the one I created...

Anyways, it seemed that now I could put my pick locking to good – well, hopefully good – use again. I wiggled the pins around for a bit until there was that satisfying 'click' and the door popped open. Rosalie pushed past me and went straight in.

"Be quick, please," I said. "I seriously don't want to get caught."

"We won't," Rosalie said, flicking on a desk lamp instead of the main one. From its light, I could see that the office was relatively small, with a cherry wood desk completely covered in papers and files. A computer sat in amongst in all, along with a phone. Rosalie picked it up and quickly dialled a number. It was a long one. We then waited in silence.

I watched Rosalie curiously. Suddenly she wasn't so fearsome. Her lips were pursed, and I saw her chest rising and falling a little faster.

Finally, someone answered.

"Aleksey?" Rosalie's voice was higher and anxious.

Then she erupted into fast Russian, and I could not understand a word.

But as I watched, her face became more upset. She swallowed, and when she spoke it sounded as if she was begging whoever it was on the other end. Whoever it was said something else, and she collapsed against the edge of the desk, pushing papers onto the floor. "Aleksey..." she whispered. More words. And then she stood back up again. "Aleksey? Aleksey!" I heard her gasp. She took the phone from her ear. The line had gone dead.

Rosalie gripped the side of the desk, biting her lip as if to stop herself from crying.

"Rosalie," I whispered, then awkwardly went to her and put my arms around her. She burst into tears. "Oh dear..." I patted her back, not really sure what to do. But she just stayed there, sniffling into my shoulder.

It was a few minutes later when the door opened. We both gasped and looked up. But it was only Jasper, standing in the doorway once more, haloed by the light from the entrance hall.

He looked at the two of us for a moment, at his sister's tear streaked face, and then sighed. "Rosalina," and then he walked across the room. Rosalie extracted herself from my arms and went into his. Jasper held her tight against him, tucking her head into his chest. "Silly girl," he muttered again, stroking her hair. She shook with sobs and clutched him tighter.

Seeing that I wasn't needed anymore, I quietly slipped out the door and back upstairs to the dorm. _Poor Rosalie, _I thought. _Whatever's up, it's not something small. That's why she's the way she is..._

Carefully, I snuck through the dormitory door and back into bed.

*T*S*P*F*

In the morning, everyone was in one big, frantic rush. Rosalie had gotten back okay, it seemed, and she was back to her grumpy self, stamping her foot when the mirrors were all being crowded and complaining loudly to Tanya about how Vaganova had individual bedrooms for its First Years.

Mistress Esme had given us exactly fifteen minutes to be showered, dressed, packed and have our beds made before she came for dorm inspection. I usually took an hour to get ready, but it was okay – Alice Brandon is nothing if not flexible. I set about my morning routine at double speed. I showered and then quickly plaited up my short hair so that it was fastened into two tight little pigtails at the back of my head. After coating it in a thick layer of hairspray, I hurried back through to the dorm and began sorting through my suitcase. Now, this was the bit that was time consuming.

_What, oh what to wear?_

I looked about me. Everyone else was pulling on their flesh pink tights and black leotards. _Everyone. _Even Tanya, with her weird fetish for gold, was in the uniform, save a few gold rhinestones up the straps.

_Okay, black is obviously the new everything..._

Well, I could hardly just fit in on my first day. It wouldn't be a good start. _But maybe I should follow along a bit..._

With a stroke of genius, I quickly fished around in my suitcase for a pair of white tights – they were close enough to pink...right? – and then found the perfect leo and pulled them both on. The front of the leo was the boring old black, though it had cap sleeves, which I guess made them more interesting. But what was great was the back – it was dark, glittering purple, with criss crossed straps most of the way down my back. Black leotard from the front, and purple from the back. I looked at my clothing choice with satisfaction, before digging out a pair of purple legwarmers to finish things off with.

Sure, it wasn't be any mean my best look, but it was better than what everyone else was wearing.

I organized my ballet bag with a bottle of water and my shoes, and then threw on a white wrap cardigan and I was ready to go.

Mistress Esme's inspection was easy; she just marched down the room and back in her stilettos, fixed any problems with beds or hair, handed out our timetables and then dismissed us all to breakfast.

Tanya, Rosalie and I all ended up together again, sitting at the same table as last time. Rosalie seemed determined not to acknowledge what had happened last night, and I couldn't blame her. I was just glad that Jasper seemed to know what was going on.

So we sat there, poking at our food. I wondered if the other two were as nervous as I was – our first class! Where we'd see who was competition..._and how Jasper dances..._

Jasper and Rosalie were seriously intriguing me now. I had to wonder what their deal was, though I knew not to pry.

At twenty to eight, we eagerly dropped off our plates and made our way upstairs to the studios. We were all in the same class; there was only two boys' classes and two girls' classes in First Year, so it wasn't so much of a coincidence.

We went into studio five, which was very similar to the one we'd been in last night, with the same crest hanging above the mirrors, reminding us all just where we were. What sort of reputation we had to live up to.

We dropped our bags in a corner and started warming up. Tanya and Rosalie were both clearly scoping the room for competition. I figured I might as well do the same as I sunk into a stretch. There were ten of us in total, which meant that the teacher would be able to focus on each of us individually more often.

It was then that the said teacher walked in. He was a man of average height, with a serious expression and greying hair which was styled in a comb over. "Ladies!" he said, clapping his hands. _And he's English...no surprises there. _"Standing, if you please."

Awkwardly, we all rose, not really knowing what to do.

But he sure did, standing there gazing at us with raised eyebrows. He did have quite a large forehead, really..."When a teacher enters a classroom at _Force _you must all stand and curtsy, and reply with the polite greeting of 'good morning sir, or ma'am'. Understood?"

"Yes sir," we replied. 'Sirs' and 'Ma'am's' were hardly on my list of vocab from my old school. It had been kinda rough there...teachers were lucky if they got a 'miss' or 'mister'.

"Good, then. My name is Master Hinde, and I shall be your technique and pointe teacher for the next year. What I say in my classroom goes, and I would first like to begin by telling you that I take no delight in teaching a First Year girls' class."

We were all silent. _Way to start a year..._

"And so I expect you to act in a far more respectable manner than those who have gone before you. There will be no talking in my class, no spitting, no eating anything of any kind, no talking back and, above all, there will be an absolute focus from every one of you." He put his hands behind his back and eyed us each individually. Purposefully, from person to person. "I only make corrections _once._"

His eyes finally came to land on me. He looked me up and down. "You," he said. "Your name?"

"Alice Brandon, sir," I said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow, then turned back to the class. "At the barre, if you please, ladies. We begin with plies."

We spread out along the three barres, with me between Rosalie and Tanya at the back of the room, and began the tedious barre work which usually lasted about half an hour.

With Master Hinde, it was nearing nine and we still weren't done. Everything was being corrected from the get-go. And I seemed to be one his prime targets.

"Reach the arms, Miss Brandon," he demanded gruffly, circling around me like I was a show pony.

"Chin up."

"Turn out, Miss Brandon – we're not in kindergarten anymore."

"Don't tip forward on the plie."

"The barre is meant to be your partner – you're cutting off his circulation."

All this was said in his crisp English accent for the whole class to hear.

And it only got worse as we finally moved onto centre work. We went through port de bras, then pirouettes and turns, then onto adagio combinations – slow, fluid movements. It was the first real dancing part of the class, but I had no chance to enjoy it. Constantly, I was being badgered for my line, my feet, my face. Until finally we started our grand allegro combination.

Grand allegro was always my favourite part of class – flying fast across the room, spinning and jumping. It's exhilarating.

Now we were doing a jete combination in groups of two, from one corner of the room to the other. Rosalie and I set off, launching ourselves into the air.

"Longer legs, Miss Brandon!" Master Hinde called. As I spun, I caught a brief glimpse of him standing with his hands on his hips.

I went into the second leap, trying to extend myself. "Longer legs!"

I landed again, and then jumped to the side, raising my arms out. I could hear my laboured breath loudly now. "Longer!" I leapt again. "Longer, Miss Brandon!"

The combination finally finished, and I tried to head back to the end of the line, but then I realized the music had stopped. I turned to face a displeased looking Master Hinde. "Miss Brandon," he said cuttingly. "What did I tell everyone at the very beginning of this class?"

I swallowed, my breathing still heavy. _Well, there's no point beating about bush... _"You only make corrections once." I tried to keep the sheer fear out of my voice.

He nodded, "And how many times have I just corrected you?"

I just looked at him.

"Far more than once, Miss Brandon!"

"Sir..." I bit my cheek. _Don't do this, Alice... _"It's kind of impossible for me to make my legs longer, sir. They haven't grown in, like, two years and they're not just going to shoot out a couple of inches when I tell them to."

I already knew by the deathly silence in the class that I'd said too much.

I gulped, knowing that I was going to regret what I had just done for a seriously long time.

Master Hinde gazed at me pensively. "You should pray that they do, Miss Brandon. And soon, too." He walked away from me. "I will organize your detention for you. Return to my class tomorrow without that smart mouth or just don't come at all. That is all for today, class dismissed."

Everyone gave a shaky curtsy, but none more shakily than me. _What the hell have I just done?_

Thankfully, Master Hinde left without another word. I stood there for a moment, not really sure what to do.

"Well, I did not know you could bite," Rosalie said in her Russian accent, coming up beside me.

"Master Hinde is the winner of several national dance titles," Tanya informed me, wide eyed. "Why did you do that?"

I gritted my teeth, clawing a hand through my hair, screwing up my plaits.

"Because it sucks being short."

* * *

><p><strong>Why, oh why, do we always seem to say the stupidest things right to teachers' faces?<strong>

Why can't we keep it locked in our minds until we find a safe place to let rip?

It all just spews out...

**Anyways, please review! Let me know your thoughts!**

Cheers, Ambereen! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys!

Ugh, it's really late, but I'm just so happy to be able to get this out to you!

**Thank you so much for all your reviews!**

**It means the world to me that you take time to give me your advice and opinions and thoughts!**

**Cheers!**

Okay, please review!

**And enjoy!**

* * *

><p>'<em>We short people have a great perspective on life; we are always looking up.'<em>

'_But you're so short you could bungee jump off the curb...'_

**Day Two – Tuesday**

I couldn't stop cringing for the rest of the morning. Every five seconds, my jaw would clench, my nails would dig into my palms and the same words would be shouted in my head; _why the _HELL _did I do that?_

And, of course, I wasn't the only one saying that. For the next period and interval, Tanya could not drop it. "I mean, seriously, Alice," she said for the fifth time as we stretched before character class. "It's his job to make you better. He's got way more experience than you, no offense."

I sighed, "I know, I know. I let my mouth get ahead of my brain..."

"Exactly!" Tanya exclaimed, as if I were some naughty child. "You need to toughen up."

I gritted my teeth. Okay, self-deprecation's fine, but then your friends are meant to tell you not to worry...

Well, since Rosalie didn't bother commenting and Tanya was giving me lectures, I _did _worry. A lot. Because I was a scholarship student. Because _Force _was paying for me to be here and it was my first day and already they doubted that I could live up to theirstandards.

I gulped and tried to focus. Character was more bearable. If I hadn't been feeling so down, it might have actually been enjoyable. Character is the side of dance that teachers like Master Hinde would almost certainly hate teaching. It was imprecise, and the moves didn't follow the strict conventions of normal ballet.

After a quick warm up, our teacher, Madame Vieira, went straight into a barre combination. It involved lots of heel clicking and bending your back _almost _seductively. The Character uniform was also different – girls wore black heels and black skirts with two red and blue ribbons around the bottom. Attire that partially concealed that which I apparently did not possess – line. Length. Beauty...

So I guess that's why character went so well. After interval, we went to music class – our first class with boys. There were two first year music classes; 'a' and 'b', skill respective. So of course I was in 'b', having had no musical training whatsoever. My parents had spent all their money on my dance classes and shoes and, until I started making them myself, all my leos. There wasn't enough money for piano or guitar lessons on top of that. I didn't mind, though; I was lucky enough just to be doing ballet.

Unfortunately, 'b' class meant that I would be in the same room as Emmett Cullen for a whole hour. When I walked in, he was sitting on a table with some other guys, laughing loudly at something...

_Or someone, _I realized as they all looked my way.

"Well, I didn't think you had it in you, shortie," Emmett said, hopping off the table. "Telling off the be-Hinde like that." His friends laughed.

I glared at him and dumped my books at a desk at the front, as far away from him as I could get. I opened my new music books, determined to ignore him.

But instead he came and sat on the desktop beside me. "So what'd you get? Detention?"

"Go away," I muttered.

"Woah," Emmett laughed. "You really are touchy. But if it makes you feel better, I'll be there with you through it all."

"Yippee," I murmured.

Emmett was probably preparing some other stupid thing to say when our teacher walked in and called us all to our seats.

For the rest of the period, all anyone could hear was Emmett and his friends gabbing on and on about stuff. I almost wished that Rosalie was here, since she would almost certainly have had something wittier and nastier to say to Emmett than I had. But she and Tanya and, it seemed, Edward and Jasper, were all in 'a' class, probably writing symphonies and having a great time.

Our teacher impatiently went through the names of the notes in the treble clef – 'every good boy deserves fruit' – irritated that some of us didn't know them. I glumly made up more depressing antonyms in my head:

_Even grade 1 ballerinas don't freak_

_Fussing Alice's chances eradicated_

_Grumpy ballet dancer fails again_

_Alice can't elon-gate because..._

Well, unfortunately there was no 's' in music, but my thought still finished. I hadn't been lying with what I'd told Master Hinde – I couldn't be taller, I just couldn't be; it was impossible. But instead of flipping out at him, I should have flipped out at myself – I was stupid, thinking that I could actually match the other girls here when they were all inches and inches taller than me.

Eventually, the class finished and we packed up our stuff. I walked back down the big marble staircase to the second floor, where all the studios were. _Partnering class. Great._

I had never really been partnered before – there had only been one boy at our studio, and I'd never had the chance to dance with him because he was reserved for the older girls. There had been a few classes where my teacher had paired us girls up and taught us the basics, so I wasn't _completely _clueless. I knew how to hold someone in a pirouette..._wait, that's the boy's part now._ But knowing the moves didn't matter so much – I was more concerned with trying to find a partner.

Halfway down the corridor, Tanya and Rosalie appeared at my sides, both of them staring determinedly ahead.

"Um, hey?" I said. When no one answered, I looked to Tanya, who was the more likely to explain something that Rosalie.

She rolled her eyes, "Rosalie thinks that Balanchine stole all his choreography from the Russians."

I just nodded. I didn't want to get in the middle of this, not right now.

When we found the studio, I was supremely thankful – Rosalie and Tanya were now in a full on argument.

Though I felt incredibly _un_thankful to walk into studio five to find Emmett, Edward and Jasper laughing with each other over in a corner, warming up.

"No," I groaned.

"Bastard," Rosalie spat.

"Edward!" we watched as Tanya set off across the room and gave him a hug.

Edward disengaged himself quickly and took a step back. "Tanya."

Emmett just guffawed.

I looked worriedly at Tanya. After a quick flush of disappointment, she straightened up and said, "I'm so glad it's partnering now, aren't you? Like, finally."

"I guess," Edward muttered.

She tried again, "I mean, it's gonna be great...with the right partner."

Rosalie and I exchanged a look. I wanted to drag her away before she did any more damage.

"Indeed," Emmett said. "That's why I'm aiming for shortie over there." Then he called to me, "We're going to be beautiful together, aren't we, shortstuff?"

My temper flared as he and Edward sniggered. Tanya, seeing the attention had turned away from her, huffed and strutted back to us, giving me a dirty look. _Because I just _love _getting insulted by Emmett Cullen!_

But I noticed one thing as we began stretching – Jasper hadn't been laughing...I glanced across at him now. My heart skipped a beat. He was looking straight back at me, frowning studiously. Shy, I quickly returned my eyes to the cherry wood floor.

"Bonjour, students!" We all snapped to attention then as Mistress Esme Cullen appeared at the front of the classroom. _Great – now I have the deputy principal here to watch me fail. _

And she was intimidating indeed, standing so tall in her long black wrap skirt and black tights and heeled dance shoes. I had to admit, she did have style – her long sleeved leotard was a deep red, and her hair twisted up into a tight bun. She had the perfect teacher outfit – not ugly trackpants and sweater, but also not exactly like what the students were wearing. _Well, not quite, _I thought, remembering my own leo. Mistress Esme wasn't the only with style...

"Partnering is a difficult art," she was saying as I returned to her lecture. "Gaining the perfect balance between partners is difficult. Giving over control to the male whilst still retaining your own strength, portraying the same interpretation of the piece, being in synch with one another. Gentlemen, you must learn to gauge how your partner is doing, how much lift or spin you need to give her."

Mistress Esme clasped her hands together. "It is difficult. And so it is important that we spend time finding you the correct partners to start training with. Your partner will not be permanent, we will begin changing around in the second half of the year. But for now, we will keep the same partners for consistency. So, if you would all just line up in height order..."

I wanted to groan. Across the room, Emmett was already laughing.

"Short at the front, tall at the back," Mistress Esme instructed. "Boys on my right, girls on my left."

Whilst everyone else was going back to back, trying to figure out who was taller, I just went straight to the front of my line.

It took a few orders from Mistress Esme before everything was sorted. The second shortest girl in my class was a good two inches taller than me. Great. Rosalie was the tallest, and Tanya was only two away from her. In the boys line, Edward was around the middle, Emmett slightly taller and Jasper, of course, was the tallest.

Somewhere, in the stupid side of my brain, I felt disappointment. _Yeah, because he would _so _have wanted to dance with me._

"Alright, turn to face one another," said Mistress Esme. "And meet your new partner."

Immediately, there was an outcry at the back of the line. "I am not dancing with _heem! _I refuse!"

"Miss Hale," Mistress Esme said warningly, walking down to them.

"I refuse!" Rosalie repeated, then threw an accusing finger at her brother. "I cannot dance with him! I cannot – "

"Miss _Hale!" _Mistress Esme commanded. The class turned completely silent. Even Rosalie was smart enough to stop at Mistress Esme's fearsome stare. "Firstly, a detention for conducting yourself so. And secondly, I was not intending to make you dance with your twin, so if you would kindly control yourself and listen, I can tell you that you will be dancing with Mister Jacobson," she pointed to the boy next to Jasper. He looked thoroughly terrified.

I almost had to suppress a smile – _that poor, poor guy._

"Mister Hale, you will dance with..." Mistress Esme scanned the girls' line. And the stupid side of brain perked up again... "Miss Denali."

Tanya looked disappointed, and I realized she'd been paired with Edward. As she grumpily moved away, I saw the look of relief on Edward's face. Jasper just looked neutral, like it didn't matter. I guessed that he'd probably done a whole load of partnering in the past anyway, so this wasn't such a big thing.

With the dispute finally sorted, I turned to look at my own partner. He was an okay-looking kind of guy, but he seemed bored already. Oh, right, bored and already looking at me with a fed-up expression. I knew what he was thinking; _how the hell did I end up with the shortest, clumsiest girl in the class?_

"Alright, positions, please," Mistress Esme ordered, and we began.

It is seriously weird having a stranger's hands on your waist, arms, _legs..._and my partner was in no rush to acquaint himself with me. He told me his name was George when I asked. That was pretty much it, apart from the distasteful expression that stuck to his face at _all_ times.

We learned how to pirouette, promenade, and perform a simple lift, just straight up and down. Mistress Esme was a good teacher. She was patient and clear in what she wanted. But it just wasn't working with George. Every time I put my foot down, it seemed like his was right under it! And then when we were practising fouettes combinations – when he turned me and I put my leg out with each revolution – I almost kicked him in the ballet-belt area!

He leapt back, and I fell off my pointe. "This is ridiculous!" George muttered.

Mistress Esme, hearing him, came over to us. "Pardon me, Mister Yansen?"

I wondered if he would just keep his mouth shut. I _hoped _he would. But no, instead he said, in a lowered voice, "Just because I'm the shortest in the class, Ma'am, why should I have to dance with her?"

Mistress Esme raised a displeased eyebrow. "What is wrong with your partnership?"

George hesitated, "It feels weird. My old partner was the perfect height for me...and I'm losing technique trying to get my hands lower." He spared me a look. "No offence."

_A lot taken, _I thought of saying, but managed to hold my tongue.

"Plie, then, Mister Yansen," she replied. "And Miss Brandon, you must reach your arms slightly higher." She waved a hand between the two of this. "This should work, if you are both willing to try for it." She began to walk onto the next person.

He called after her, "But how am I meant to learn how to partner a _normal_ person?"

I spun around to face away from him, feeling tears spark in my eyes. I realized the whole class had gone quiet again. _Keep control, Alice, keep control...just breathe..._

I couldn't quite look at him. I just wanted to scream and run away. To cry...

_Suck it up, _I told myself. _Suck it up like Mulan...like Hercules...like Cinderella...yes, Cinderella. She was always getting beaten down, but she got her prince at the end of it all, didn't she? And her ugly stepsisters got what was coming to them._

_George is an ugly stepsister! _I realized. The comic picture of him in a dress and make up, saying what he'd just said, brought a smile to my lips. I turned back, looking up at him. His nose was looking more pig-like by the second... "Excuse me?" I said with the politest of smiles.

He looked a little taken aback. "Nothing," he said quietly.

"No, seriously," I said. "What were you just saying?"

"Umm..."

I watched him closely, letting him get more and more uncomfortable, then eventually I turned around so that I was in first position. "Fouettes, now," I told him, and snapped up onto pointe. Quickly, he grabbed hold of my waist, and we rejoined the music, along with everyone else.

I let out a small sigh of relief. At least no one would think I was a cry baby.

The class went on. Mistress Esme changed a few pairs around. Rosalie managed to get through four guys before Mistress Esme clapped her hands, calling us to attention.

"Alright," she said. "We move onto across the floor combinations now. Simple ones, of course, but I want absolute control." She snapped her fingers, "Mister Masen, up here please."

Edward rolled his eyes to Emmett at the back of the class and came up to partner Mistress Esme. Despite the fact that now I knew he was almost as irritating Emmett, I couldn't help but admire Edward's skill. It was our first class and yet he easily followed Mistress Esme's instructions, lifting and turning her easily.

"Thank you, Mister Masen. Does everyone understand?" Mistress Esme asked as they finished.

There was a chorus of 'Yes ma'ams', and then we all headed for the back of the studio.

"You were amazing, Edward," Tanya cooed.

"Thanks," Edward muttered, then quickly went to his own partner.

Mistress Esme counted us in, and the first group set off. It was a pretty simple combination, I guess, if you were experienced in pas de deux. _And you had a partner you could trust, _I thought dully. It was stupid, but I couldn't help but feel jealous of Tanya. She and Jasper performed the combo flawlessly. Jasper lifted her easily, and kept total focus on keeping Tanya on the tip of her toes. I wasn't surprised at all that he was the perfect danseur. Everything about him, the way he moved and all his gentlemanly manners (okay, I know even Emmett would have caught me when I fell down those stairs, but still), just screamed 'next Rudolf Nureyev'.

"And next group, and five, six, seven and courus..."

I watched as Rosalie began tiptoeing forward en pointe, her fifth partner dutifully behind her. "And arabesque..."

Rosalie raised her left leg behind her, and her partner stepped in to hold her waist. "And turn..." He began turning Rosalie around en pointe.

"It's right, not left, you idiot," Rosalie snapped.

"Sorry," said the guy, changing direction.

Mistress Esme ignored them, "And down...and échappé up!"

From flat, Rosalie jumped up onto pointe.

"Shit!" her partner yelled, and stumbled, clutching his toes.

Rosalie only looked at him for a moment, a hand on her him. "Hm," she said contemplatively. "Sorry." Then, with a smirk, she finished the combination alone, perfectly, of course, even when she had to replace the lift with a jump.

Emmett whistled, lounging back against the barre, "That girl is _something."_

I just looked at her poor partner, still cursing quietly in the corner.

"Next group!" Mistress Esme called. "And five, six..."

George and I started off okay...but that was probably because it didn't involve me doing anything with him. I went up into my arabesque, lifting my leg behind me, and let him pull me around. The real issue came, though, during the lift.

"And plie down..." George quickly put his hands on me, but too high. As we both bent our legs, he tried to lift me. I was up a few inches before his hands slipped up around my armpits and my shoulders up by my ears, my legs dangling below me, like a little child getting picked up.

There was a collective gasp from the class as George hurriedly dropped me – let's face it, his hands in my armpits wasn't exactly a pleasant thing for either of us.

Fortunately, I didn't fall to the ground, just landed hard and stumbled slightly.

"What was that?" Mistress Esme demanded, hands on her hips.

Danger over, Emmett led the class in a good old laugh whilst George and I stood there, not looking at each other.

"It's not gonna work, Ma'am," George said desperately, though he was at least scared of me enough to give me a furtive glance this time.

Mistress Esme raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips, "I don't care. You will continue on together. Now ensure you support the hold next time, both of you. Next group!"

I returned to the back of the class blushing embarrassedly.

"Hey Jasper," I heard Emmett snigger as I walked past them. "I'll give you a fiver if you dance with her,"

I heard Jasper and Edward laugh. My mind seethed. Bastards. Couldn't they just leave me alone? Idiots. Jasper, too. I was stupid to have thought him any different from the other two. They were all horrible, arrogant, amazing ballet dancers.

The rest of the class involved even more embarrassment. Everything from not being able to get my arms over George's head to falling into the ballet barre after a pirouette. I had involuntarily become the class clown. Great.

Finally, Mistress Esme clapped her hands and told us to all sit down for a moment.

"Today was to be expected of a first pas de deux class," she said. "It was sloppy and badly disciplined. It served a purpose, though. You now know how difficult partnering is, oui?"

Looking around, I realized that people were nodding. _As if they have problems in comparison to _mine!

Mistress Esme pressed her fingertips together, "Tomorrow we begin curriculum work. Some of the moves you attempted today we will not revisit for months." I saw the ghost of a smile on her face, "Now we will build you all from the bottom up. Of course, partner selection does factor into this. To be as consistent as possible, the partners you are currently with will be your permanent partners unless there is a particularly big issue. By the end of the week, your partner and you will have created a short combination to perform to the class. Music of your choice."

Everyone began talking excitedly. Edward just nodded passively at his partner's suggestions. Emmett was already cracking some joke about a pole dance. Tanya seemed to be talking about her favourite choreographers and how she knew them all personally. Rosalie was sitting stretching her feet as her partner timidly tried to give some ideas.

I just wanted to groan. _Great. I'm stuck with George for the next six months...and I have to try and choreograph something with him!_

"You may take reverence now," Mistress Esme announced, looking pleased with the amount of discussion.

We all got to our feet and lined up once again. With a graceful step to the left and then a bend of the knee and a bowing of the head, my first day of classes at _Force _finally finished.

_I just did a whole day of ballet, _I thought to myself, picking at the knots of my pointe shoes. _Why do I feel so...empty?_

When I finished a class back home, I'd be raving...I'd feel satisfied and excited and pleased with whatever I'd been working on...

Why wasn't it like that now?

I stopped trying to untie the ribbons, and just frowned at the floor. This wasn't good...

"Coming, Alice?" Rosalie said. Don't worry, pigs hadn't flown – it wasn't in a friendly tone. She was just looking distastefully at Tanya, obviously wanting to use me as a sound barrier.

Unfortunately for both of them, I wasn't feeling so charitable today. "I'll see you guys in the dining hall," I said distractedly.

Rosalie huffed and spun on her heel, "Alright, come on. I need to ice my feet."

"Icing your feet is a bad recovery routine; footbaths are more effective..." Tanya babbled, following after her.

I waited until the studio had cleared out before I stood up.

The room seemed so much bigger now without all the people.

The golden light from the sunset flooded through the window, reaching across the floor.

I walked into the middle and stuck my hands on my hips, trying to work out what was wrong with me. I'd never felt like this before...so flat. Like, worse than after-school flat. And that is _really _flat.

Unconsciously, I started flexing my foot. It was a habit when I was thinking.

Experimentally, I tried an arabesque.

"_Turn out more!" _

I frowned again, and looked in the mirror at myself, one leg stuck up in the air. Straight away, I started fixing things, hearing all my teachers' voices in my head, telling me what I was doing wrong. But mostly, there was just one voice sticking out:

"_Longer, Miss Brandon! Longer! Elongate!"_

I exhaled hard and tried reaching further, pointing my toes and stretching out my fingers.

"_Longer!"_

I swallowed. "Come on!" I breathed. "Reach!"

The door opened, and I broke my position.

Jasper stood there, still in his ballet gear, a little smile on his face.

I rolled my eyes and pushed back my messy, wet hair. "I've had a crap day, whatever joke you're gonna make...just don't."

Jasper stepped in and shut the door. He was frowning now and if I hadn't been sick of it all, I would've had to say it was _seriously _cute...

"I didn't come to..." he began in his Russian accent, then sighed, pushing his own hair back. "I came to say thank you for last night, with my sister."

"Oh," I said. _Crap! _Quickly, I folded my arms and looked down at that teeny freckle on my right wrist. "That's okay..." _Okay, Alice, this is gonna get real awkward real soon if you don't say something... _I looked at him, "Is she okay?"

_Okay, okay, okay..._

Jasper nodded, "Yeah, just problems at home..." he scratched the back of his head. "It's, uh, kind of private."

"I wasn't gonna tell anyone," I said quickly, suddenly really anxious to reassure him that I wasn't a gossip.

"Thank you," he said. Everything was really, horribly quiet for a few seconds. Then he cleared his throat. "So...what are you doing?" he gestured to me, still in my pointes. "Extra practise?"

I looked down, suddenly embarrassed, as if that's what I should be doing, "Um, no..." I smiled. "Kind of the opposite..."

He had that frown again, but more interested this time, not concerned. "What do you mean?"

"Well..." I played with my fingers, trying to work out how to explain. "It's just that today was kind of hard. And..." I frowned now. "I guess I just wasn't expecting _Force _to be so...so..."

"So intense?" Jasper said.

"Yeah," I nodded. "And...everything's so uptight and to the point, and the teachers don't spare you any negative comment...and I've been so worried about not making any mistakes and not embarrassing myself..."

"It's not meant to be easy," Jasper said hesitantly.

"I know," I said. "I don't mind working hard, of course not. I'd be stupid to come here if I did. But already I feel like all the fun of ballet is getting sucked up, and now I'm trying to get it back, but all I can hear is ten different voices telling me to turn out and all that."

Jasper looked at me for a second, "So...you are trying to have _fun?"_

I nodded, a shy smile on my lips.

But he still had that concentrated furrowed brow, "In a ballet studio?"

I nodded again, my eyebrow raised.

"_How?" _he asked incredulously.

I stared at him. "Well..." I bit my lip. "You know?"

Jasper just shook his head.

I narrowed my eyes, looking at him objectively. _Ah! Got it! _"Okay, so why did you start ballet?"

"Because my parents dropped me and my sister off at the door when we were eight."

Well, that kinda stopped me dead in my tracks. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Okay..." I wove my fingers together. "Why do you like ballet, then?"

He seemed to consider the question very carefully, "It can be emotional, once all the hard work is done."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "All that passion stuff, of course..." I just had to look at him studiously again. "So you really have never had any fun when you're actually dancing?"

Jasper laughed at my expression, "No, Miss Alice, I have not."

I gave an exaggerated sigh, and before I knew what I was doing, I'd grabbed his hand and pulled him into the centre.

Surprised but willing, he dropped his bag and followed. _Just don't think about the fact that you're holding his hand...eeee! I'm holding his hand!_

"Okay," I said, regretfully dropping the hand. "So just leap."

"Leap?" he repeated.

"Jete, whatever you want to call it."

He did so obediently, moving high into the air, his legs splitting expertly. He landed with almost no noise, and then turned back to face me. "Done."

I bit back a laugh.

He frowned, "What? Was it wrong?"

"Ooooh no," I said, still grinning. "You just look so serious!"

He turned to a mirror. "Do I?"

I just laughed, "You're just meant to relax! Someone at Vaganova has obviously spent the last eight years teaching you how to fly; don't you want to use it for yourself?" I saw this wasn't getting anywhere.

"Okay," I said, and then set off from one corner to the other, leaping as high as I could, feeling the air split ways for me, my body defying gravity for the slightest of seconds. I finished with very little grace, but it didn't matter. "See?" I said, my breathing up a little. Jasper was watching me intently – a model student. "It's exhilarating. Just try it, don't think about technique or anything, just flying through the air."

Jasper nodded, brow furrowed, focused on the opposite corner.

I snorted.

He looked up, a confused smile on his face, "What?"

"Okay, _now _go," I said without explanation.

It should probably have concerned me that I was trying to teach a Vaganova student how to jete, but I couldn't bring myself to care. "Just let it go!" I called. When he got to the other corner, he turned to me, his pale Russian face kind of flushed.

"That was...kind of...fun..." there was an unfamiliar, dangerous glimmer in his eyes, and suddenly he was grand jeteing in a great big circle around the whole room.

I laughed as he flew by me, almost a blur of black and white.

When he finally came to rest in front of me, his hair was a mess, and his breathing a little heavy. That spark was still there in his eyes, though. "That was..." he looked at me, frowning as he tried to find the word. "What did you say? Ex..."

"Exhilarating?" I filled in.

"_Exhilarating," _he tried the word out for size. With a satisfied nod, he looked back to me. "What else is there to do? Can you make barre work fun?"

I chuckled, "That I can't do, sorry...well, there's always kicking the people in front and behind you, but that might not end well."

"Not with Mistress Esme," Jasper said. "She is scary, even by Vaganova standards. Not many teachers can silence my sister."

I laughed, "She's certainly a force to be reckoned with."

"She could do with so of this," Jasper said, gesturing to the studio. "What else have you got?"

I frowned, "I dunno, usually I just kind of dance, let myself go..." I bit my lip again. "Well, there is _one _thing."

"What?" Jasper said.

I peeked up at him, "It's really childish."

Jasper clasped his hands, "Tell me."

I grinned, "Ever thought about just pirouetting and turning without spotting until you get so dizzy you fall over?"

"No," he said. "But let's try it!"

I had to giggle. "Alright, whoever lasts the longest wins."

"It's on, Miss Brandon," said Jasper.

"I'm a natural at this kind of thing," I warned as we went to the centre. "By which I mean serious stupidity."

We started. I'd always been quite good with pirouettes, and so I spun and spun for what seemed like ages. Jasper did fouettes, kicking one leg out every so often, gaining more speed.

"Don't spot!" I called.

"I'm not!" he replied. I had to laugh; he was already sounding funny. It wasn't long before he stopped. "Woah," he whistled. I wished I could have seen him, but everything was a blur.

My pirouettes, of course, didn't last forever. Eventually, I fell off my pointe. The room kept spinning. "Oooooh God," I said, stumbling around. I loved the feeling, but I was so off balance, about to fall into the turning floor until a pair of arms was suddenly there, holding me up. "Woah," I said as Jasper's face slowly came into focus. I realized I was clutching his _sizeable _biceps.

Jasper laughed, "Alright there?"

"I won!" I said.

"A rematch, soon," Jasper said.

"I'll still win."

The room finally stopped, and I was left standing there in the arms of a seriously hot Russian danseur for no reason.

But that devilish twinkle was back in his eyes. "I've thought of something," he said.

"And what would that be?" I said. _Let go, Alice...let go..._

"Trust me?" he asked.

"Oh, inexplicitly," I retorted.

He laughed, ignoring my sarcasm, and then suddenly his arms were around the bottom of my thighs, and I was high up in the air.

"Oh my God," I breathed in surprise, holding onto his shoulders.

"Don't worry," Jasper said, from far below me. "I won't drop you. Now let go, Miss Alice."

Tentatively, I lifted off one hand, then the other. And then I wasn't just defying gravity, I was floating high above it all. "This is amazing!"

"Exhilarating?" Jasper asked.

"Yeah," I said, letting my arms move through the air, performing the fluid movements which had bored me to tears this morning. I laughed, then realized something else. "Hey, Jasper, guess what?"

"What?"

"I'm tall!" I reached my arms above my head. "Take that, Master Hinde!"

"And George!" Jasper called.

"And Emmett!" I shouted.

"_Particularly _Emmett," he added.

"Did someone just say my name?"

Jasper and I both gasped, though, unlike George, Jasper didn't drop me in surprise. Slowly, he brought me down until my feet touched the floor again.

Edward and Emmett were there in the doorway, arms folded, arrogant grins on their faces.

Emmett stepped forward, "Nice work, Jazz." And handed him a fiver.

* * *

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**Thanks for reading!**

_Oh, and Pas de Trois (story which goes with this and Clair de Lune) will be updated tomorrow morning!_**  
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